


Where the Love Light Gleams

by thursdayschild



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Catholicism, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, College professors, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Gen, One Shot, vaguest implications of future Athelstan/Ragnar/Lagertha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdayschild/pseuds/thursdayschild
Summary: After finding out that the new chaplain at Katigate College has nowhere to go for the holidays, the Lothbroks invite Athelstan for Christmas dinner.





	

Athelstan stood on the doorstep, fidgeting. He’d been instructed not to bring anything, but he was loath to show up as a guest empty handed and so he clutched a bottle of wine in one hand and a plastic-wrapped wedge of artisan cheese in the other. He tried to tidy his hair, but only ended up hitting himself in the face with the cheese and he quickly gave up. He took a deep breath and managed to hit to the doorbell with his elbow.

He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was standing there. Kind as it had been for the Lothbrok family to invite him for Christmas dinner, he didn’t understand why they’d done it. He had just finished his first semester as chaplain at Katigate College where Lagertha Lothbrok taught mythology and European history and her husband Ragnar tended the grounds and small farm. They crossed paths now and then, but the family hardly knew him. Still, when he had mentioned in passing to Ragnar that his plans for Christmas involved holding a small service for the handful of students staying on campus and then maybe ordering take-out, Ragnar had insisted that he come to their house as soon as the service had ended.

The anxiety was starting to rise to a peak in Athelstan’s chest when the door was flung open.

“Who are you?” demanded a sullen looking boy wearing a Santa hat with the words “bah humbug” embroidered in red across the fluffy, white trim.

“Um,” Athelstan began uncertainly.

“Athelstan, is that you?” called Ragnar, as he strode down the hall.

Ragnar Lothbrok had to be at least twice as big as Athelstan overall. His long hair was wild, despite an obvious attempt to capture it in a ponytail. He was wearing a flour-dusted sweatshirt with a large picture of Darth Vader in a Santa hat splashed across the chest.  

Before Athelstan could even begin to offer up his gifts, he found himself pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

“Welcome,” Ragnar boomed as he finally freed his guest. “Come in!” He slung his arm around Athelstan’s shoulders and steered him farther into the house, the sullen boy trailing along behind them.

He led Athelstan into a large, open kitchen that flowed into a warm dining room. Windows looked out onto a snowy yard and the furnishings were all either wooden craft or cozy and overstuffed. In the kitchen stood Lagertha and a girl, younger and much less sullen than the boy, working together on some dish. They turned when the men entered the room, both looking flushed and happy.

“Athelstan,” Lagertha cried with just as much enthusiasm as her husband. “We’re so pleased you could make it.” She was wearing an apron that read “apron of cooking: +3 fire resistance” over jeans and what appeared to be an aggressively ugly Christmas sweater. Like the rest of her family, she was barefoot and her hair was only slightly tidier than her husband’s. The girl seemed the neatest of the bunch in a blouse and jumper under an apron patterned with animals.

“These are our children, Bjorn and Gyda,” Ragnar said.

Gyda waved a muttered a quiet “hello,” before turning back to her work. Bjorn simply stared at Athelstan.

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” Lagertha told him. “There’s wine on the table. Help yourself and then have a seat. Love, come and help.”

Ragnar joined his wife and daughter by the stove while Bjorn skulked in a corner ignoring them in favor of some kind of hand-held game Athelstan could not identify.

“I brought wine and cheese,” he said, holding them up.

“Oh, thank you,” Lagertha said. “You really didn’t have to. Set them on their counter.” She gestured with her spatula.

Athelstan obeyed and then spent the next twenty minutes or so trying to stay out of the way, dodging children with silverware and adults with hot dishes. Once she’s adjusted to his presence, Gyda began babbling happily about all the gifts everyone had given and received and occasionally Bjorn would mutter something about his game.

When at last they all sat down at the table, there was a moment of slightly awkward silence in which they all tried not to look at Athelstan. After a pause, Ragnar coughed and addressed their slightly pink guest.

“I’m afraid we’re not really religious, but if you want to say grace…”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Athelstan said quickly. “I’m sure He’s heard quite enough from me for one day.” He gave a slight laugh and was relieved when the tension dissipated almost at once.

They lapsed into happy silence for a few minutes as everyone delved into the meal. Some of the dishes were unknown to Athelstan and so they soon fell into conversation about Ragnar and Lagertha’s families back in Norway and what they had all done to celebrate Christmas there.

“What about you, Athelstan?” Lagertha asked. “How did you celebrate as a child?”

Athelstan shifted for a moment. His childhood had been nothing like this bright and merry scene and he didn’t want to bring the mood down.

“I, um, didn’t have much family growing up,” he said carefully.

“Why?” asked Bjorn at once. He was proving to be, perhaps, the bluntest person Athelstan had ever meant.  

“My mother was alone and she couldn’t take care of me.”

“What happened to you?” asked Gyda, bright, young face pinching in concern for events that had happened so many years ago.

“I went into the system and my foster families sent me away to boarding school,” he explained, trying to keep it as mild as possible without flat-out lying. In fact, his tendency to be emotional had gotten him labeled as a “problem” and he’d spent most of his childhood and teenage years bouncing between different foster homes and boarding schools, usually Catholic institutions. While they had been strict, he had found comfort in the rigid structure of the church when everything else in his life had been so changing and there had almost always been someone or other to offer him a kind word or at least a reassuring line of scripture.

“Is that why you’re here?” asked Bjorn. “You don’t have anywhere else to go?”

“Bjorn, don’t be rude,” Lagertha scolded.

“It’s fine. He’s quite right.” Athelstan gave a slight smile. “I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

“Well then it’s a shame we don’t have more cheer. Floki and Helga usually join us, but they’re visiting her family,” Ragnar said.

Lagertha snorted and Athelstan gave her a puzzled look.

“You know Floki?” she asked.

“Only in passing. He teaches environmental science and works in the fabrication shop, right?”

She nodded.

“Let’s just say he’s not exactly anyone’s ideal man for their daughter to bring home.”

“He’s batshit crazy,” Ragnar said around a mouthful of potatoes. “Brilliant, but totally crazy.”

“I like Uncle Floki,” chirped Gyda. “He makes the best presents!”

She wiggled out of her chair and dashed out of the room, only to return a few moments later with small object that she handed carefully to Athelstan. It was a stunningly detailed carving of a long boat complete with tiny rowers, each with a strained look on his miniscule face.

“He made it out of wood from our old tree,” she explained, taking it back from Athelstan. “Look.” She held it up and turned a small crank disguised as the boat’s rudder and the tiny vikings began to row. She gazed at it reverently before setting it gently aside and returning to her food.

“So how was your first semester?” Lagertha asked Athelstan. “KC treating you well?”

“Oh yes,” he said at once, not even considering if it was the truth or not. “It’s been wonderful.”

“Really?” asked Ragnar, raising an eyebrow. “The last chaplin only stayed a year and the one before that only two. Guy before you said that our students were-,” he turned to his wife. “What were his words?”

“Beyond God’s help.”

“Yes, that was it,” he said, sounding entirely too pleased. “In fact, I think he said our entire campus was beyond God’s help.”

“No one is beyond God’s help,” Athelstan said quietly, his voice dipping into a more serious tone than he had intended.

“So the students are liking you, then?” Lagertha asked.

“They certainly seem determined to make sure I earn my keep.”

“And what exactly did they do to your room?” Ragnar asked with a knowing smile.

Athelstan flushed.

“I probably shouldn’t say in front of your children.”

“That bad?” asked Lagertha sympathetically.

“Tell us,” demanded Bjorn loudly.

“Eat your food,” his mother scolded.

* * *

After dinner, Athelstan offered, or rather insisted, on helping to clean up, so he and Lagertha washed dishes in the kitchen while Ragnar took the children outside to burn off some candy-fueled energy.

“Your dedication to your work is very admirable,” she told him.

“You mean batshit crazy?” he asked.

“No, it’s impressive. The KC kids don’t tend to be very interested in having a, um, personal relationship with the Almighty.”

“Everyone needs someone to listen now and then. If nothing else, I can give them that.”

“The church must mean a lot to you.”

“It was there for me when nothing else was.”

She set down the plate she was washing to look at him properly.

“You really don’t have anywhere else to be, do you?”

He shook his head.

“Well then, you must come for New Year’s as well,” she declared.

Athelstan hadn’t even gotten to the word “impose” before Lagertha was hushing him.

“Unless you don’t drink,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s impossible can’t deal with a drunk Ragnar sober; you have to at least be tipsy.”

Athelstan nodded, turning his gaze to the windows where they could see Ragnar leading Gyda in an assault against Bjorn, their battle cries echoing through the neighborhood. He felt a twinge of longing at the sight. He’s been shunted around too much as a child to ever have any real friends and most other kids had been wary of him as a foster child.

“I can finish up here if you want to join them,” Lagertha offered.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not really dressed for it.” He quickly turned his attention back to drying the dishes.

* * *

 

They had just finished putting away the dishes when Ragnar staggered in, snow in his hair and beard, and set about making hot chocolate. The children returned inside soon after and Lagertha settled them all in the cozy living room, despite Athelstan’s insistence that he really should get out of their hair. Ragnar passed around hot chocolate and Athelstan nearly choked at how much peppermint schnapps was in his mug.

“I hope you weren’t driving,” Lagertha said, rolling her eyes at her husband.

“No, I don’t have a car.”

“You don’t have much, do you?” Bjorn said, staring hard at Athelstan as if trying to decided if this was an admirable quality or not.

“I suppose not,” he admitted.

“Like a monk,” said Gyda, sounding pleased that she’d make the connection. She was settled on the rug, setting up what appeared to be an elaborate battle between an army of beanie babies and a battalion of plastic dinosaurs.

Bjorn had settled back into his game, though he would occasionally suggest a better battle strategy to his sister. Athelstan suspected that this was a common game and, as he watched, it seemed to him that there was an entire set of rules to the fight with each figure having its own moves and skills.

“More complicated than chess,” Ragnar told him proudly when he noted Athelstan watching.

“Athelstan says he’ll join us for New Year’s, love,” Lagertha said. “Won’t you, Athelstan?”

Athelstan had the distinct impression that there was no denying her and so he nodded.

“Excellent,” said Ragnar. He stepped carefully around Gyda’s game and set about building a fire, Lagertha letting him know when he was doing it wrong.

At last, Athelstan’s anxiety got the better of him and he got to his feet.

“I really can’t stay,” he muttered, starting to look around for his coat.

Ragnar smirked and Athelstan didn’t have time to realize his mistake before Ragnar’s voice was in his ear.

“But baby it’s cold outside.”

Athelstan flushed at the rich, almost seductive quality of Ragnar’s tone. But Lagertha just rolled her eyes and got to her feet as well.

“Let me find your coat.”

Athelstan thanked them profusely on the way to the door and assured them that he would be there for New Year’s. After hugs from everyone except Bjorn, who sullenly agreed to a handshake, he was back on the doorstep feeling, if anything, more unsettled than when he’d arrived. No one had ever welcomed him into their home like that before. He was used to lonely holidays attending far more services than necessary, to the point that last year the priest had suggested that maybe it was time for him to go home. He started back towards campus, but he paused and looked over his shoulder at the Lothbrok house. It’s windows glowed with warm light and he saw, in profile, Ragnar pull Lagertha into his arms and he felt a twinge of _something_ in his chest.

Perhaps coming back for New Year’s wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So I realize that most colleges don't have a farm, but mine did so in my head that's totally normal.  
> Also, I might be convinced to write some more scenes in this AU if folks are interested.


End file.
